Make A Wish When Your Childhood Dies
by FoundHerselfInWonderland
Summary: Johnlock au with the initial plot coming from an anime, with some changes. John is a kindly fifteen year old with big ambitions and a best friend in Molly Hooper. When a strange curly haired boy enters his boring life bringing him nothing but pain and a frightening warning, things begin to change. Magic is real, and witches too, but in a maze of monsters, who should you trust?
1. Fairytales

This is my first fanfic in a very long time, not to mention my first attempt at a Sherlock one. I must pre warn you, this is not meant to be taken all that seriously. I do not know if anyone reading this have ever seen/read Puella Magi Madoka Magica, or is even an Anime/Manga fan at all, but this fic will be based around a few crucial event that take place in that. I was going to give a brief description of the Anime`s plot, but decided otherwise, as I don't want to spoil anything A if you decided to give Madoka a bash and B I don't want to give too much away about this fic. All I will say about it is this; Sherlock will fill the shoes of Homura Akemi, John those of Madoka Kaname, Molly, Sayaka Miki`s, Moriarty will be Kyubey, John`s sister, Harry will be Kyoko Sakura and a teenage Mrs Hudson will be Mami Tomoe. . Like I said, this is not mean to be taken seriously, it is a joke. My friend suggested I have a shot at writing a Sherlock fic, but in an alternate universe, such as an Anime crossover. I figured something fairly obvious an easily done, such as Death Note, but she jokingly suggested Madoka, and this is the result. XoXoDakota

Once upon a time, in a sunny land far, far away, over the green, majestic hills and just a little to the right, something fairly boring and cliché happened. A pretty young girl, met a gorgeous prince, fell in love, they battled a few dragons, maybe a witch or two and lived happily ever after. Real life is never like that. Bad things happen to good, hardworking people. Good things happen to bad people who don't deserve it. We all lose loved ones, and have to fight out own battles. Alone Fairy Tales only exist in the pages of children`s books. Bad thing happen, whether you like it or not, and sometimes you can try as hard as you wish to try to fix it, only to make matters worse. That`s just the way of the world.

You never get anything for free. Some things can't be changed. Sometimes they shouldn't be. Just because you want something to work out doesn't mean it will, and especially not in the way you imagined. Three things Sherlock Holmes knew better than most.

It was a cold January evening when he came into the world, pink and round with a few dark curly strands of hair. Always a quiet child, he sat back and observed people; their reactions, the things they said and did, everything. Rarely speaking, but constantly watching. The younger of two sons, and the more foolish and hot headed, something that always fuelled Mycroft`s teasing.

The two grew up more or less happily, brought up in the heart of England`s heaving capital. They never went without anything, you could even go as far to say that they were spoiled, but they were both lonely little boys. Their parents both were good, hardworking people, but the hours were long, and tiring, resulting in their two boys being cared for by a string of different nannies.

Starved of a mother and father`s time and affection, led to one of the boy`s despair and destruction. This is where out tale begins. So grab a cushion, rest your feet, and have a drink. Are you comfortable? Yes? Then let us begin. I must warn you now that our story may not always be a happy one. Bad things happen in real life. People die. Despair and darkness replace childhood hopes and dreams. Remember that.


	2. Make A Deal With The Devil

**Hey there again. S this is the second chapter. I`m well aware of occ`s, but it just won`t work otherwise and as they grow older thy should by more in character, so please try your hardest not to slate me for that. Slight changes to the plot of Madoka here: multiple wishes instead of one. Anyway, if you want to know where the inspiration came from, give Puella Magia Madoka Magica a read/watch. John will appear next and Sherlock and Mycroft will make some drastic choices. **

**XoXoDakota**

Lightning flashed across the dull grey sky in bright, electric flashes, illuminating the otherwise colourless street. Cowering silently under his starry bedcovers, a young Sherlock Holmes wrote in a battered looking leather notebook stolen from his intimidating father`s study. Curled up next to him, enjoying the warmth and company was an aging Red Beard, sniffing at the untouched wax crayons. The soft sound of wax being dragged messily across paper and the dogs soft panting helped to set the little child at ease. He didn't have any friends, as he so often confided on the cold, uncaring paper. He was too different, too weird.

_Brothers are horrible little creatures. Especially older brothers. They really are the worst. What with their "Holier than thou" nonsense, selfishness and love of teasing you relentlessly until tears spill over, just because they are older. As if their age justifies their cruelty in some way. Then again, maybe not all older brothers are like that. Maybe most are protective, loving and act like they actually enjoy having you hanging around them instead of moaning and ordering you around._

_Mycroft isn't one of those kinds of older brothers though._

_Mycroft is mean and selfish and stuck up. He is always putting me down, calling me stupid and foolish for only doing what every other little boy my age is supposed to. Like playing in the dirt and reading books about ferocious fire breathing dragons and fearless warriors. He teases me and says I should grow up because real life isn't like that. He`s only four years older than me and he thinks he knows it all. Maybe he does, I don't know. He sure thinks he does, that's for sure. Mother and father are never around all that much, so I think that's why he does it, because he knows he can get away with it. Or maybe he just likes being the top dog all the time, always the one in control. I don't know, I`m just a little kid. And not a very bright one at that as he keeps reminding me. _

_I wish I was smart like he was. His teachers are always praising him, sending home brightly coloured merit certificates and golden stickers for good work. They certainly can`t be for his people skills for he is even worse than I am in that respect. The neighbourhood children don't come round to play at our house anymore; not after Mycroft made them cry by telling them all sorts of nasty stories he insists were true and calling them babies for not accepting them._

_I wish I wasn't so foolish that he always made fun of me, I wish he loved me. I think he does, in his own way. I wish mother and father were around more often, then maybe he would be my friend. While we`re on the subject, I could really be doing with a few of those too, but nobody ever wants to befriend the weird gangly kid who never uttered a single word. _

_All I really want is to be clever, like Mycroft. Then maybe mother and father will pay attention to me as well. If they can`t, then I want a friend, just one. Someone who understands, who doesn't run away because I`m strange. _

Never has the terribly overused phrase, "be careful what you wish for," been more appropriate.

…

"Now, Mycroft, I want you to wait in here with Sherlock while I nip to pick up my medicine. Can you do that?" Nanny Winston asked the ten year old, wondering if this really was such a god idea after all. The elder Holmes boy was well known to be incredibly difficult.

The elder boy grinned sweetly. "Of course, Nanny Winston. I would love to. I`m certain you can trust us alone in a Library for a few minutes. It`s not exactly like they have murderous bears roaming free, now is it?"

The elder woman shook her head, but returned the smile, her weathered face crinkling, periwinkle eyes twinkling. It was clear that she adored the children, difficult or not. She did worry about Sherlock though, he always looked so sad and lonesome.

Sherlock stayed quiet in the background, shuffling his trainer clad feet. Although only recently purchased, they were already scruffy. The white laces were grey, the soles had great big tears in them and the toes were scuffed with mud from playing fetch with Red Beard in the garden.

"Oh Honestly Mycroft, you don't have to be so sarcastic all the time, dear." She fondly ruffled the boys head.

He scowled. "I am not a child! Don`t patronise me."

Ignoring his last comment, Nanny Winston warned them once about sticking together and departed for the chemist across the road from the centuries old building stuffed to the brim with books.

Almost as soon as she was gone, a dark haired young man, with a slightly unnerving grin wandered out casually from behind the bookshelf housing a wide variety of children`s reference books. Beautifully illustrated dictionaries, encyclopaedias, you name it, they had it.

Sherlock noticed the immaculately well-dressed man first as his brother had sauntered off around the corner to ask the traumatised looking librarian if they had anything new in. Like most youngsters, he had a strong thirst for knowledge, but by the tender age of ten, already devoured everything all the way up to GCSE level books. And unlike most other boys his age, he positively loathed silly fantasy books such as Harry Potter.

The man was a little, well odd, for lack of a better word, the curly haired boy noted. Far too overdressed in what appeared to be a very expensive suit, with gleaming shoes polish within an inch of their lives. Neatly trimmed dark hair and expressive, almost smug face, with surprisingly sad looking eyes. Sherlock wasn't quite sure what to make of him so he ignored him, hoping he would go away, but he never did. He just stayed and watched, taking to leaning casually against the shelves, a disturbing smile appearing and then vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Everything about him screamed "predator," right down to the practiced ease with which he carried himself to the cruel glint in his eyes.

Ignoring the rules, Mycroft came running back a bundle of books in his arms, several of which he had only a vague interest in but he thought his brother would like. Seeing the dark haired stranger, and visibly gulping in fear seeing the distinctively hungry look in his eyes, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us, Mycroft Holmes!" The man said with an over dramatic flourish. "And young Sherlock of course, lovely to see you." His smile wasn't friendly, nor was it reassuring. Nanny Winston`s repeated "Stranger Danger," warnings came flooding back to the two of them.

"What do you want?" Mycroft`s voice was cold, as he took a protective stance in front of his younger sibling, much to Sherlock`s surprise.

"Of course, of course! How rude of me!" he frowned. "I am Moriarty, and I have a huge favour to ask of you two boys." The hungry look was back and his lips wee skimmed back, revealing a set of razor sharp looking teeth.

"Favour? What kind of favour?" Mycroft answered cautiously, while herding Sherlock away slowly.

"What kind of favour you ask? I need you to make a contract with me and become magical boys."

Mycroft scoffed, his usual smug attitude swiftly returning. Whoever this strange person was and no matter how threatening he may look, he certainly wasn't capable of harming them in broad daylight in a fairly busy building.

"How old are you? Didn't you mother tell you magic doesn't exist? What are you, daft?"

Ignoring his comment completely, Moriarty continued, "It is very simple." He spoke slowly, as though he thought the children were incapable of understanding even the most basic of sentences. "In return I shall grant you each one wish right now. I will also grant you each a further wish every year you are under contract with me, to keep the deal sweet."

An evil grin spread across his lips. "Now then, do we have a deal?"


	3. Creation

"It is very simple." He spoke slowly, as though he thought the children were incapable of understanding even the most basic of sentences. "In return I shall grant you each one wish right now. I will also grant you each a further wish every year you are under contract with me, to keep the deal sweet." An evil grin spread across his lips. "Now then, do we have a deal?" Sherlock lowered his head, unsure, knowing that it would be best to turn on his heels and make a mad dash for the exit. Knowing his luck, he would be more likely to trip over his gangly long legs and land flat on his face, embarrassing himself. Mycroft was possibly thinking the same thing, it was hard to tell as ever. Moriarty`s eyes narrowed into unfriendly slits. "Listen here, boys. I`m a very busy man, I have loads of children praying for a chance like this, but out of the goodness of my heart, I have chosen you two, above all others. Do not make me regret this decision." The elder boy glared up at him, not at all intimidated. How Sherlock wished he could be more liked him. Mycroft wasn't scared of anything. He was brave, and clever, always acing his spelling tests and numeracy problems, and ever since become the class representative he had become even more respected and adored by his classmates. It was taking all he had not to quiver with fear and hide behind a bookcase. There was just something about this impeccably well-dressed man that gave the eight year old the creeps. "If you really believe that we are stupid enough to contract with you without knowing what this deal involves, then you must be the stupid one." The man pulled an over exaggerated face of surprise, mocking the child that had dared speak back to him. "Very well then," Moriarty spoke calmly, but his body stiffened ever so slightly. "I will grant you a single with this very day, then one every following year as long as you do not back out of our agreement. In return, you will become Magical Boys." He says with a flourish of his strong, manicured hands. "It will then be your job to battle a frankly quite disgusting looking being that is born from curses known as a Witch. Simple?" "Battle, you mean fight?!" This really wasn't a good idea, Sherlock knew that he shouldn't even be considering it, but the idea of all those wishes was just so very tempting. He could wish for anything he wanted. Brains to rival his brother, to finally put him in his place. Bravery. Strength. Friends to play with even. He could make sure that his beloved Red Beard never left his side as he aged. So what if he had to fight a few monsters? Surely it couldn't be that hard, Moriarty wouldn't give them an impossible task now, would he? Shifty looking as he was, he couldn't be heartless, otherwise he would force them into the contract. "Yes, Darling," grinned Moriarty, "I mean fight." His leather shoes inched closer to the young boy. "Get away from him!" A cold, manic laugh echoed around the room which had emptied out in the last few minutes. "Am I scaring him?" he drew out the offending word, eyes bright at the mere thought, provoking the usually shy child. "I`m not scared. I know Mycroft thinks of me as a silly little whiny baby, but I`m not. I can be brave, I am brave." He quickly corrected. "A few wicked witches don't scare me, I want to fight!" A knowing smile found its way to Moriarty`s pale lips. "What is your wish, O brave one? O mighty hero? What is your hearts greatest desire? What wish will make your Soul Gem shine?" "I wish…" to be as clever as Mycroft, to have friends, to be loved, appreciated. "I wish for-"a small hand was roughly clasped over his mouth, silencing him. "You are not doing this, Sherlock." Says Mycroft sternly. "What would mother and father think if you came home hurt?" He raised one thin eyebrow and slowly removed his hand after a good few minutes had passed. "Thank you for your offer, Moriarty, but we will both decline." Sherlock hated it when decisions were made for him, but that was only half of the reason why he ran over to the menacing man, shoving his brother behind him and embraced one long, slender leg. "Please grant my wish, please make me a Magical Boy!" "And you wish is?" a smug grin was thrown in Mycroft`s direction, who seemed to stunned to even noticed. "I want to be unimaginably smart, like my brother! Please!" "No!" it was a long drawn out scream, haunting in its tone, but it was already too late, like the ending of some horrible cliché movie. Young Sherlock Holmes fell to the ground in agony, tiny body hunched over in pain, a truly terrifying shriek escaping form behind clenched teeth. His small frame was encased in bright light, that appeared to light him up from the inside, a small object floating from it, gleaming like a precious gem. Then it was over. His agony, as quickly as it begun, was over. Trembling he got to his feet, aided by Mycroft, red in the face, tears streaming from his eyes, down his paler than white cheeks. "What have you done to him, you monster!?" "I created his Soul Gem, an object from which your powers are stored." Sherlock leaned against his brother, trembling in the aftershock, cradling the small, glittering object in the palm of his hand to his chest. It was green in colour, the most beautiful shade the young boy had ever seen, as vivid as the trees in a lush forest, and as dark as a stormy sea. Soon after his eyes closed. "What exactly is that thing?" he pointed to the Soul Gem curiously, worry colouring his face. Moriarty sighed. "His Soul Gem is the home to his new power, created just moment before. A very beautiful and powerful object, it must be kept on his person at all times. "But why?" now that Sherlock was no longer screaming in pain, he had calmed down a lot, but something about this still bothered him. Let's say for one second that he did believe in magic, at that the egg sized object in his brother`s hand was indeed magic, where did that leave Sherlock and him? He couldn't possibly let his brother battle witches on his own. Moriarty grinned. It was wolf like, all sharp fangs and lips skimmed back. The other Holmes boy would soon be his. "He made that wish because of you, he hates you, felt inferior to you." Mycroft`s eyes widened horridly, his greatest fears realised. He had always known Sherlock resented him a little because mother and father paid him more attention, but he would have never thought he truly hated him. "And now, if he gets hurt, or worse, it will be all your fault." Mycroft gasped, hands clutched to his face. He felt sick. Looking over at his sleeping younger brother he knew he had no other choice. He felt awful knowing that he made the awful wish because of him, but if he actually got hurt…it wasn't worth thinking about that he told himself. Sherlock would be fine, he was determined to keep him safe. "What is your wish, Mycroft? What is the wish that will enable you to ease your guilt, you wicked child?" Later, when recalling this day, the usually emotionless Mycroft would sob, but not today. "I wish to be able to protect my brother from anything that may try to hurt him." The same light that had enveloped the younger Holmes boy trapped him, this time glowing a brilliant white, before dimming, sealing his own fate. 


End file.
